Race Report – Ironman 70.3 Asia Pacific Championship Langkawi – Fraser
Race on a tropical island? Sounds like paradise. That was my first thought when I signed up for Langkawi. Standing on the startline in a pool of my own sweat was the moment I realised the race was going to be far from it. The early morning jitters were strong. ‘Good’, I thought instead, ‘that’s how you get better’.
Nervously banding together with the kind of camaraderie unique to the startlines of daunting races, I joked with a Belgian bloke about having to stop mid-swim to clear the sweat out of my goggles. I’d made the mistake of not getting to the line quick enough, and I was eight rows back. I already knew I’d have to swim over a few people to make it to clean water.
The gun sounded. I ran down the beach, dove into the waves and immediately sprinted for the tail of the front pack. I bridged 400m in, then sat for the next 400m to recover. In Australia, I’ve never taken the reins and led the pack. But as we began to slow, I took the opportunity.
I sprinted through transition, heart leaping out of my chest in the early morning sauna. I gave athletes knuckles in the change tent, and said ‘cheers for a solid swim’. They thanked me for leading, and then we were on our way. A classic Tri moment of brief camaraderie, before turning back into competitors.
Onto the bike, I felt great. This is always my favorite leg and I knew this one would be special. As we climbed up into the jungles of Langkawi, monkeys lined the sides of the roads, swinging down from the trees to see what the commotion was all about. I managed to put a gap into the swimmers I left T1 with, and didn’t see them again for the rest of the race. The climbs were steep – a 10% gradient recorded on my Wahoo, with roughly 1000 verts. I’m not the best climber in the world, and on my TT I felt pretty clumsy. But we all know that’s what the Kwinana Cycle Path does to a cyclist haha. On the upside, there were nice rolling sections between the climbs, and I was happily sitting over 40 clicks so I knew I should be on for a decent time. I began reeling in a few of the female pros in the later stage of the ride and, although I knew they would immediately pass me again on the run, it was cool to mix it up with them.
The heat was starting to wear me out and I had to really focus on getting bottles at the aid stations. The first lot went all over the face and body, and the second into the bottle cage. A tactic I repeated for the remainder of the ride. After 12 scoops of Tailwind – yes, you heard that right! – I was still craving salt. I knew I had to act quickly in T2 to avoid cramping on the run. Barrelling into the air-conditioned transition building with a Japanese rider (a guy I’d passed around the 80km mark who had held my wheel as I backed off the watts for the last 15 mins), I immediately stuffed 3 salt pills into my gob. While I fluffed around changing from a tri top into a more breathable running tee, he was out and onto the run. This put a jet up me. I’d probably lost a minute – time that I didn’t realise would turn out to be very precious until later into the race.
The moment I dashed out of T2 and left the sanctuary of the aircon, I knew I was in for a struggle. I remembered conversations I’d had with Freo members in the lead up to the race, around my ability (or inability!) to handle the heat. True to form, I was battling from the first step.
I managed the first 2kms at the mid-low 4min range, and thought that maybe I’d be able to hold it there. I usually can in the cold. By the 5km mark, however, I realised that keeping it under 5 min pace was going to be hard enough. There were aid stations every 2.5km with massive ice-water tanks and ladles. In my head the race became tank to tank. Ladle to revitalising ladle.
The humidity was inescapable and, in my mind, any hope for a position at the pointy end of the race was gone. I had entered the dreaded survival mode! After a few previous successful races, I forgot just how hard Tri can become and this smacked me right in the face with a big, fat, humid reminder. Luckily, my on-the-fly cooling strategy was allowing me to just keep the pace just under 5 mins, so I decided to refocus, hang on and try to breathe my way through it.
Seeing my wife Madi at the 8km mark gave me a boost but it was fleeting as I ran onto the unshaded out-and-back section of the run. That was when they hit – the infamous stomach cramps. I thought I’d had a bad stitch before. I was wrong. This was like the stitch that a stitch would get. Absolute agony. Determined not to walk, I frantically pressed my fingers into my abdomen. I bent over and shuffled on for another 500m before being passed by a guy in a tri-suit with flames on the back. ‘Ironic choice of image’, I thought to myself.
Punching a few more salt pills and a caffeine gel, I managed to battle through the gut issues and pick the pace back up. Heading into town, I glanced at my watch. I was 16km in. ‘You can survive 5km’, I thought. Given that I was essentially running our Zone 2 pace from the Sunday run sessions, I took a deep breath and pretended it was a Sunday cruise with the club. Before I knew it, I was back under 5min pace and sweating my way to the finish.
With 2km to go, my right quad started to tweak, threatening what would be a classic ‘race derailing cramp’, so I swallowed every salt pill in my bag and licked the residue off it in a manic attempt to fight the tweaks. Backing off the pace for 500m, I saw Madi again, waving crazily.
‘ You’re in 3rd!’ She shouted. ‘The guy in 2nd is 30 seconds ahead. Look for the flames!’
All thoughts of self-preservation flew from my head and I was sprinting as hard as I could, cramp or no cramp. I had thought this race was over, but it turns out everybody else was battling the same conditions. And then I saw him. Old mate flame suit, 150m up the road, the archway in sight. I bit down and clipped it.
Unfortunately, I must have made quite the scene, because he glanced over his shoulder and, seeing my sweaty, pasty form barrelling toward him, started his own mad dash, managing to keep me at bay until I collapsed over the line. ‘How bloody good’, I thought to myself. Turns out it was only an Age Group 3rd, but I’ll take it, and the World champs slot that came with it.
All in all, it was a beautiful swim and bike, with a sufferfest of a run. I learnt more about my body and mind than I have in years of training sessions, and it reminded me that going out of your comfort zone is one of the most important things to do as a triathlete. Something I’ll have to try and remember if it’s hot at Busso in 2 months time!
